


The Night of the Decisive Defection

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, ran out of time or there would've been porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man at the lead pulled his horse around deftly in the direction of Jim's voice, holding a white handkerchief in the air. He was a cavalry officer, there was no doubting it from the hat and the gold cord. "Hold your fire! I want to discuss terms of surrender."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night of the Decisive Defection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Random_Nexus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/gifts).



Lieutenant James T. West was seriously considering the possibility that they weren't going to be riding away from this particular battle. He cursed as he tried to find a clear route through the muck for his men, his horse shying from the uncertain swampy ground where he tolerated the noise of gunfire. There should have been more patrols. His men had been running patrols, but word was that very few others had been and the result was almost an entire army blindsided. What the hell was General Grant thinking?

It didn’t make sense to him, and he put a lot of trust in his leaders. They were good men, they were smart men, but they hadn’t been smart this time. The camp hadn’t had defenses, and he knew tents had been over-run with men still in them.

He was carefully not thinking about it and dwelling on his men, instead.

“Sir, I can hear hooves coming towards our flank. They’re not moving fast, but they’re moving,” Sergeant Brennan offered in a whisper.

He glanced in the direction the other man gestured. "Large group?" he queried in a low voice signaling for his men to move to battle readiness. It could be one of their platoon trying to regroup.

"Looked like a company. Can't tell if it's theirs or ours." There were confederates wearing blue and confederates wearing grey and confederates wearing whatever the hell almost nearly approximated a uniform, and Jim was hard pressed to say that his men were much better, but at least they were mostly fed. Or had been until that morning.

Jim grimaced a little, glancing around. "I want the men concealed behind that ridge, ready to fire on my signal." There was no glory in potentially slaughtering their own men and that paltry ridge was pretty much the only cover around. And if it turned out to be Confederates then he would have them drawn into a clean ambush.

He didn't wait for the inevitable protest, but urged his horse forward to intercept the unit on approach.

He could at least get close enough to see what was going on, and the likelihood that they'd shoot a lone rider was slim, when the lines were as jagged and broken as they were. He trusted Sgt. Brennan to spread the word, and knew that when he circled back carefully around the edge of the swamp, they'd be in position.

He had his gun ready, knowing he could take out any one soldier that went for him, but if a squad fired on him he would have a problem. Still, this was a battle and he was going to bluff the hell out of them. "Halt, you are entering Union territory. Make yourself known!"

The man at the lead pulled his horse around deftly in the direction of Jim's voice, holding a white handkerchief in the air. He was a cavalry officer, there was no doubting it from the hat and the gold cord. "Hold your fire! I want to discuss terms of surrender."

Terms of surrender when they were in the winning? He didn't let a flicker of that show. Jim could make out the slight glint of light on gunmetal at the ridge, and he wasn't going to reveal he only had thirty men with him. "We will hold fire, but know that any treachery will be met with a swift and immediate lethal response."

He'd found formality gave him the impression of sounding older and more authoritative than he was, and he needed that being one of the youngest officers around. "Approach and lay down your arms."

"All right. Lieutenant Merril, tell the men to ready for surrender." The handkerchief stayed up, while he guided his horse closer towards Jim with either nudges of his heels or knees. His sidearm was held where Jim could see it, by the barrel, but it was less symbolic than surrendering a sword. "I'm Captain Artemus Gordon, Cavalry officer with the Army of Northern Virginia. The better part of my Company is with me. I have urgent intelligence to pass on to your leadership."

"I am Lieutenant James West, and I’m a man of my word. If I say you will be unharmed that will be the case," he said in a commanding tone. He was rapidly assessing the other man in front of him. Intelligent eyes, very mobile expression. Well turned out, with a pride in his appearance even through the mud of the battle. "You may parlay with me. I am not going to let a Confederate Captain saunter up to a General no matter how urgent the intelligence."

"I suppose not, but had to ask." Captain Gordon dismounted, careful to not make any sudden moves. It seemed like he was aware of his strange predicament and wasn't about to antagonize Jim. He held his gun out to Jim for the taking, standing beside Jim's horse. "Lieutenant West, I'd wager you have fewer men with you than I do."

"If you truly believed that, Captain Gordon, then why are you surrendering?" Jim asked as he took the gun. There was a definite urgency to the other man’s stance.

"It's got nothing to do with the numbers." He was quiet for a moment, looking at Jim like he was weighing the next words out of his mouth. "There's a power mad caudillo who's planted a bomb deep in your territory. It's going to let off a gas that'll kill or cripple anyone who breathes it. The problem is, it stays in the air. The wind'll kick it up, and it'll kill our side and civilians. We have to tell your side, and find that bomb."

He inhaled sharply. The ramifications were clear. In a full confrontation, the massed forces of both sides would be close enough that losses would be catastrophic and leave things open for another force to capitalize on their resulting weakness. His tactical training practically berated him for an idiot for not considering a third power might come into play.

Still, it could be a ruse. Could he afford to just dismiss it? It made too much military sense. "Do you have proof of this?"

"Not a whit. I lost a Sergeant when we came across the encampment. He came into contact with the gas when we rounded them up." His eyes shifted a little more coldly, "My officers wouldn't hear of it. After all, if it's on your side, who cares, right?"

"So you're saying, Captain Gordon, I have no reason to believe you except your word that this is true?" Jim said. The battle was drawing nearer to their position and he was going to have to make a decision momentarily.

Now it would be dangerous not just for Jim and his men, but for the defecting company. He couldn't imagine the captain would be met by a welcome party if word of that ever got back to his side. More like a bayonet.

"You can ask any of my men. Our story's the same. That... letting something like that happen isn't right. It's not right. It'll kill us all."

He looked at the Confederate soldiers - They seemed grim and spooked; none of seemed to be the fresh from the field type but he didn't have time to interview them all. They would back up their Captain either way, he was sure of that. He had to go with his gut instinct, but that didn't mean being stupid.

"Sergeant Brennan!" he called out. "Secure our guests. Find a defensible area and dig in. Captain Gordon and myself have an urgent communication to get to General Grant." He could risk himself, not his men. If he was with Gordon, well, he would be keeping an eye on things.

Captain Gordon stood by his horse as his Lieutenant started forward as a steady pace, his units following in good order. They all passed by Jim and Captain Gordon, and they didn't ignore their commander. Their commander didn't ignore them, either. The almost steady stream of "Atta boy, it'll be all right" and "Go on, it'll be okay" and to a few of them, "You keep an eye on private" so and so and corporal so and so, and a couple of promises to the men that their families would do all right, the missus'd wait.

It reinforced Jim’s gut instinct about the man. He could respect someone who knew about his men, who cared what happened to them. His men would not do what some other platoons might do. He gave his officers a look, not having to tell them that if he came back and found anything had happened, they would answer to him.

"If they have surrendered for the good of both sides Captain Gordon, they will be rewarded," he said and then nodded to his horse. "Mount up, you can brief me on the way.”

The captain lingered for a moment, watching his men break out of formation and into more of a file as Jim’s platoon closed in on them to move them out. “Right, right. They're good men. Won't cause yours any trouble. We talked about this.” He mounted quickly, still talking while he got his hand wrapped around the reins. “Not much more to tell you, honestly. We were heading out to reconnoiter your area last night in advance of the attack, and came across this bizarre encampment of Mexican gunmen, and their workshop, out in the swamps.”

"And how did you know what they were making?" he said. Captain Artemus Gordon appeared to be as educated as his name suggested but it was no guarantee.

"I'd seen it before, more of a rumor than a reality then, when I. Before the war. When it killed Sgt. Perkins it was a ...bad death, then I was sure of what was going on. We got a few words that confirmed it from our captives. My leadership didn't care if you all got gassed. I suppose if either side was handed a boon like that, they might not care about the wider consequences or the fact gas doesn't come with reins to steer it where you want it to go." He grimaced, scanning the area around them as he rode just to Jim's left.

"But they think it's going to just stop and ignore anyone in a confederate uniform?" he replied. Dammit, he was an idiot. He should have passed the man a Union jacket. They’d have to pick one up or maintain the impression he was escorting a high level prisoner. He opted for that option in the absence of convenient clothing. "Is this bomb set to go off by time or...?"

"It's timed to go off tonight, unless a cannon ball hits it and triggers it before then. Or someone's horse trips over it or... I'm not even entirely sure where it is. I just got a general direction out of them and that'll have to do." He halfway wanted to reach over and take the man's hat, because that was more of a giveaway than the jacket, almost, but escorting a prisoner to see higher headquarters wasn't quite so unexpected. Neither was the drizzle of rain that was starting.At least it was damping some of the cannon smoke down

He nodded. "You give me details of those directions - there's a good chance one or other of us might get killed when we try to get through the fighting. I'm taking you to Grant and if we can't get to him then we'll have to go after this thing together without orders."

“Operating without orders doesn't bother me at this point." Gordon drawled it, but he didn't sound amused. Jim tucked that away, and then tucked away every word Gordon gave him about the location of the original encampment, and the words the captured men had given him about the point of emplacement. If they decided to put Gordon in irons, Jim would at least be able to investigate it himself.

The strange thing was, they managed to make their way towards the General's encampment moving without having to explain to the other what to do. Captain Gordon knew how to handle his horse, knew when to alter position, watched and observed as much as Jim did. The fighting was fiercer, the smoking in the air acrid and bitter and Jim was finding himself irritated with the trigger happy people on his side who kept trying to kill him without even attempting to issue a challenge. It wasn't as if his uniform wasn't a striking enough blue to stand out and make him recognisable.

He sat up taller in his horse, hoping to be seen for the Union soldier he was by other damn Union soldiers. Getting to the edge of the encampment was a little better. “Lieutenant West? Is that a prisoner?” He expected the tilt of shock in the man’s voice, because that wasn’t how the day had been going for them so far.

“Indeed I am. Surrendered my company to him just on the edge of the swamp.” Captain Gordon gave a tight smile to the guard.

"I have some urgent intelligence for General Grant sir," he said with a curt nod, wincing at a particularly loud canon shot near to them all. "Captain Gordon is my prisoner and is vital to that end."

"I trust you to it, then, but make it quick." He got the nod, and they headed in close enough to dismount. Captain Gordon was still making it very, subtly, clear that he was unarmed and hopefully not to be shot, his hands up ever so slightly.

Jim held his gun on him more for his prisoner’s sake than for any real fear of duplicity on the Captain's part. He finally located the general’s tent, dismounted and ushered Artemus in front of him. "Lieutenant James West with urgent intelligence for General Grant," he announced himself confidently. "My prisoner has information crucial to the battle."

He held firm, and wasn’t startled that the General’s aide looked at him funny, because a Lieutenant interrupting the tent of the General of the Army of the Tennessee was a sign that someone didn’t honestly respect their chain of command. There was a host of other people Jim could’ve gone to.

It just would’ve taken longer.

“Lieutenant, what’s the meaning of this?” It was the aide, not General Grant, but the Major looked angry as he walked towards them both.

“I have urgent intelligence about a bomb in your territory,” Captain Gordon offered succinctly. “Urgent enough that I defected to get it to you.”

"It's true sir," Jim added glossing over the fact he could not verify it with actual proof, just hearsay. "We need to act. We could be running out of time."

The Major turned, looked over his shoulder to get a signal from the general, and that was his mistake. General Grant started to stand up from his chair, still limping slightly from an earlier injury.

"You brought me a captain who defected from the confederates with a wild tale, Lieutenant. Not many men turn themselves in when the tide's in their favour..."

"I brought my company with me." Captain Gordon offered it with a weight that implied it meant something to him, other than madness. "Sir, if that bomb goes off, it'll kill most everyone in the area. Grey, blue,civilians toxic nerve gas doesn't discriminate, General. There won't be anyone left to win this battle when they have drowned in their own blood like my man did."

"Sir, tactically both our side and that of the Confederates are at their most vulnerable when they are in close contact and a battle and specifically to an enemy to both sides," Jim put in before the Major had a time to speak. The man looked apoplectic at the interruption.

"Captain Gordon, what did you do before the war?" It was a strange question for Grant to ask, but that he was asking at all had Jim's hopes up.

Until Captain Gordon opened his mouth, looking rueful. "I was a spy and an actor."

"Lieutenant West, did you see a company’s worth of confederates surrender with this man?"

"I did sir." Dammit, he should have asked, he should have. No, his reasoning was still sound, and he sounded genuinely distressed about his men. "I decided it was a plausible threat sir, and took steps to ensure the minimum of risk to yourself and my men."

The General inclined his head, watching Jim intently as if weighing him up. "Go. Find this device. Disarm it, bring it or pieces of it back here if you can. I want proof. And if your unit's found slaughtered by confederates come morning, West, you'll spend the rest of your days in the brig."

"You won't regret this, sir." Captain Gordon didn't move yet, but seemed to be waiting for Jim.

"Understood sir." His entire life hung upon his gut instinct to trust a man he had known less than an hour. But he still didn't feel he had made a mistake, for all the man was someone he would have ordinarily despised for turning on his own side. What he could respect was a loyalty to something greater than two sides and the selfless action that might involve. He couldn't see anything that Captain Gordon had to gain from this in any respect and that more than anything convinced him.

The confederates would kill him -- unless they'd sent him as a spy -- and the union might very well do the same. It didn't seem like much of an incentive.

"Dismissed."

He fell in beside Jim as Jim left the tent, still careful to not make any sudden moves even once they were outside and mounting their horses again. "I have the damnedest urge to see if tying the white flag of surrender around my neck would help at all."

Jim smiled a little at that as they stepped out into the persistant rain. "Right now I'd take any advantage. Looks like we both stand to lose now if we don't find this thing. Captain Gordon, if you've used me, I'll make sure you regret it."

He looked askance at Jim as he waited for Jim to lead the way out of the headquarters camp. "I don't doubt that at all. I'm sure I might live to regret this despite it. C'mon, we can't have as much time as either of us would like."

That was true enough. "Then you lead," he said moving rapidly. "And I'll guess we'll figure out what to do when we find the damn thing."

And avoid getting killed in the meantime.

* * *

While they rode, carefully picking their way through the disintegrating union side of the line, Jim missed his unit, his men, and ended up giving Captain Gordon his gun back in a gesture of practical survival as much as blind faith. They’d run too close to the greys more than once, and they seemed to have just as much an inclination to shoot at Gordon as the union did to shoot at Jim, as they were moving against the grain of the battle. That didn’t even count the bullets that were aimed at someone else on the other side of the gap and they just passed through too close. When sunlight went, though, it was a relief and ratcheted up the tension because the Captain started to ride his horse all the harder as time was running out.

“We’re close. This looks like the area. Do you have flint? We need light.”

"That'll make us a sitting target," Jim said fumbling for his striker and glancing at the shape in the darkness that was a landmark he'd seen in briefings. "The Hornet's nest -- that a key part of our line. It makes sense the bomb will be in striking distance of that."

"Good. Good, but I know it's around here, so..."

The light drizzle that had been plaguing them started to turn heavier, and Gordon swore, snatching for Jim's striker. "Well, West, if this goes off before we get a fire lit, it was awfully nice knowing you, and I'm sorry about the trouble."

"I think under the circumstances, I think you could probably call me by name," he said. The other man had a torch lit before he could say anything. "Especially as you're the one likely to get shot for carrying a torch."

"I'll put it on the list I'm keeping of 'reasons people are looking to shoot me'." He didn't hold it up high, but at shoulder height. It started guttering right off, under the weight of the rain, and he started forward through the ground. "Sneezing during the St. Crispin's day monologue doesn't seem like such a good reason, now that I've managed to top it ten times over. There -- does that look like metal in that copse of trees?"

A concealed area, with natural cover. "I see it. Artemus, Artie," what the hell, Artemus seemed like a made up name to him. "Stay back. If they’re looking at you, they won't see me." There had to be guards there, he knew it.

"Right." He didn't seem to need the concept of a decoy explained to him, so Jim started towards the trees while Gordon stood there looking extra hard at appearing like he was trying to work out what he was seeing. It might just buy Jim enough time to get in there and lure out the guards or kill them.

He saw two, and he went for it, knowing this was something he was good at, taking them down even in the mud. He felt the crackle of a nose breaking under a punch, reeled back himself and took down the second, and then realized he had miscalculated.

There was a whole damn squad of Mexicans here, poor ignorant bastards who probably didn't know they were sitting on top of death. All pretense of stealth vanished as they poured out from the treeline towards them both.

Given the circumstances of the day, the sound of gunfire probably wasn't startling. Gordon shot someone, keeping his distance, and Jim was aware of some of the attackers breaking off just to get him, which gave Jim a little space to breathe. Maybe the gunshot would draw in someone from the Union line.

It didn't stop him fighting, using the mud, using the unstable ground to throw them. He could see the device as he got closer, catching a glimpse of some sort of mechanism ticking down and it was too close to zero. "Gordon!" he yelled. "Artemus, get to the... bomb." Two men plowed into him and he fired, and kicked at them with adrenalin fueled strength.

Jim just fought back, struggling, focused on each single target because Gordon had to have gone after the device. It was as simple as that. It had to be done. He finally struggled to his feet in the mud, and could see the light of the torch in the copse of trees.

He downed another one, taking a ringing blow to the head but managing to stagger after that light, in time to see Artemus leaning over the metal object and the glint of metal off to one side of him from a gun barrel. "Get DOWN!" he bellowed, lining up on where he thought the enemy was in the darkness.

Gordon dropped, or Jim hoped he dropped rather been shot, and he took his aim before firing twice at the enemy. He couldn't have missed -- he was a better shot than that.

That was the last one. There were no other enemies in sight, so he pressed on, staggering towards the object Gordon was hunched down over. Hunched over and still breathing, which was the important part after all of that trouble.

"West, get down and help me roll this over."

Gordon seemed to have some idea of what he was looking at, and for all his training, Jim had a feeling he would do more damage than good if he fumbled around with it. He scrambled over and helped to push it over, surprised at the weight of the damn thing.

It felt huge, and something inside *rolled* when they moved it, but it didn't go off. Gordon frowned at it, and then carefully began to pry at a panel on the side. "I think we'll be all right. As soon as I get this disconnected, it'll be just a pile of wires and a glass jar."

"Great." He peered over the edge. "I take it that it being shot at would be bad?" he asked seeing more shapes out there in the darkness and hoping like hell they would ride on past. He paused to try and find ammunition again, wiping something trickling into his eye away in irritation.

"Being shot at would be very bad. Less bad than if this exploded, but I'm still awfully fond of being alive." He glanced up at Jim, and then back down to the panel, pulling a wire with obvious care. "You're bleeding. Took a knock to the head?"

"Probably," Jim admitted, touching the stickiness on his face. The blood looked black in scarce light. "I'll worry about that later." He was twitchy and he hadn't kept count of how many people were out there wanting to kill them. Possibly they had assumed it was more than two men coming after them and had run for it. "How long will it take?"

"Just..." He pulled another wire, and then closed the panel, starting to lift it carefully. "Right. I'll strap this to my horse and we'll have to walk back."

Quicker than Jim thought, but there was a lot of lingering cleanup to consider. "Good work," he said in surprise. "Let's get this -- Here." He reached to help the other man, and they both went still for a moment when the glass bottle inside the metal rolled for a moment. "You didn't get hit in all that did you?" he asked a little belatedly.

"I'm fine. Let's just get this out of here and call it a night." They both walked faster when they carried it, back out of the copse of trees and towards their horses. "This way your general doesn't kill you, and my men might actually get some amnesty from this side."

"I'll make sure of that," Jim promised. After what they had given up, it was the least he could do. He felt a sudden sense of relief - his gamble had paid off, and he'd been right to follow his instinct. "We made a pretty good team."

They'd made a hell of a team; he had trained with people who he hadn't been able to match moves and skills with so effortlessly. He knew enough to know that was a rare thing.

Gordon gave a laugh, and waited to lift it with Jim onto his saddle. "You're right. We did. I'm glad it was you we came across, and not that Major back there."

"You know… your men might get amnesty, but I don't think they'll want you back over there," Jim said heaving it up and helping Artie to strap it on securely. "You might want to consider a place on our side. A man of your skill. General Grant will probably go for that."

"He might," Artemus agreed, looking sideways at him. Jim mounted up carefully, keeping alert on the goings on around them aware that Gordon's gaze seemed to be lingering on him somehow. Someone would have to round those men up, and Jim was too focused on getting the proof and Artemus back to headquarters.

And maybe the next day, the battle would take a better turn. Now that he had come to the attention of General Grant, who knew what might happen? They might start listening to the scouting units a little more, if nothing else.

With any luck he would be able to fulfill his promise to the confederate captain. They did work well together and if this was how they started, things could only get better in the future.


End file.
